


Aubane

by Krystallite



Series: Poems, Prose, & Short Stories [2]
Category: No Fandom
Genre: Death, Demon Hunters, Gen, Humanity, Madness, Prose Poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 19:24:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14677803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krystallite/pseuds/Krystallite
Summary: A prose inspired by the cover art of Volume 6 of Oyasumi Punpun (Goodnight Punpun) by Inio Asano.Hope you enjoy!Prose Description:Ready your pitchforks!Ready your knives!Ready your torches to prepare for the night!March to the valleys!Onto the land!Come, let us go!Its head will be had.Revised on 11/16/2018





	Aubane

It lurks, it peeks, it hides in the dark,  
Surrounded by night and its friends, the stars.  
They gleam, they shimmer like that of eyes,  
Eyes that glimmer of greed and shine with pride.

Bleeding through the gaps comes the lights from the sky,  
Taking hold of the cage, of the place where it lies.  
It cowers, it shrieks at the sight it beheld,  
At the tales that were told by the stars where they dwell.

“Monster! Fiend! Get out of our sight!”  
They screamed, waving swords and their torches of light.  
A reply it would screech but alas, no avail!  
For they saw the blood red drip from teeth to the trail.

That day, one step, one shriek, and it fell.  
What a glorious day for the beasts straight from hell!  
The hunters step up, its death to fulfill,  
But the sun had declared there was one night still.

And now to tonight, to today, to the next,  
The sun tick-tocks to the time it has left.  
No more stars, no more moon, no more nights to be gleaned,  
Yet it hopes more for her smile, for the sun yet unseen.

Hark, the light! The day, it has come!  
From far, far away, the march has already begun!  
It pleads, it begs, claws laced to its heart.  
Rays of mercy unfold, and death they impart.

Festers begin.  
Skin starts to rot.  
Decay setting in.  
—who would have thought?

Pain!  
Shrieks!  
Laughter!  
Death!

They all mix together and ashes again!

Shrills!  
Thrills!  
Together they stay!

—but now it’s no more.  
—nil of black, now all gray.

They stop.  
They look.  
Nothing is there.  
Where could it be,  
That who preys on despair?

Below are the ashes.  
Ashes left of what’s none.

No more now.  
Nothing left for the sun.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed. Feedback and comments are appreciated!
> 
> Revised on 11/16/2018


End file.
